Marked
by SilentNemesis
Summary: The eddies of life are pulling Leonard McCoy under and he isn't putting up much of a fight. A saving hand grabs on to him in the form of an upstart cadet by the name of Jim Kirk. Will he let himself be rescued, or will his spiraling vortex pull salvation down to the depths with him? (Slash, Mckirk)
1. Chapter 1: Tick Tock

Leonard Horatio McCoy didn't know whether he was rushing to class or to work, but he did know he was late. He needed to be at Starfleet Academy Hospital in 15m and 33s. Even if he ran at breakneck pace and used the fastest form of ground transportation he had access to, the best he'd be able to manage was an inadequate 22m and 13s. Which was just late enough to get his ass smoked. Now, walking through the buzzing streets of Alameda, McCoy was faced with some unpleasant prospects. He could either take his punishment like a man or suffer through the unpleasantness of a Cross-Bay shuttle.

It was 5 o'clock on a Wednesday, the streets were teeming with people, and McCoy had the mother of all hangovers. Not for the first time, he lamented leaving all of his medical supplies in his apartment and work locker respectively. He had intended to distance himself from all that for just one evening, and now he was kicking himself mentally for it; or rather the throbbing pain in his temples was doing it for him. McCoy tried to keep a brisk pace through the late afternoon bustle, but every few feet he collided with another body.

All of his senses were numbed by the after effects of his unscheduled binder last night with the exception of his sense of smell. In the human press, McCoy's olfactory bulbs picked up every manner of unpleasant human aroma. The beating sun made it no better, adding to the air the pungent stench of sweat. He could feel his stomach reposition itself. The best he could figure, it wanted to get a good spring off point so that it could launch its contents with purpose and vigor. He brought his right hand up to his chest and traced the Starfleet emblem with his fingers. Then he began counting in twos, tapping twice against the emblem every multiple of four and taking in deep breaths. He did this for a few blocks before his internal rumblings calmed. He placed his hands palm down and smoothed the front of his cadet reds, making minuscule adjustments to his collar and cuffs.

One saving grace about today was he at least looked sober, if nothing else. As he turned another corner, narrowly avoiding knocking some old woman over, McCoy felt small pockets of panic bursting within him. _What if I have to perform surgery today? I can't operate on anyone in this state. _His hand reached for the emblem again, but he caught himself. _No need trying to pull the goose out of fire before it starts burning._ All he needed to do was get to his locker before rounds, or labs, or whatever the samhill he was supposed to be doing today. _My kingdom for a damned Hypo._

He flipped open his Comm, he now had 11m and 48s to get from Alameda to San Francisco. McCoy kept close to the sides of the buildings, using the berth people usually gave the corners of the structures to maneuver as swiftly as possible through the crowds. He found the nearest shuttle hub at the end of the street. He could see people debarking and queuing up for the next rides. The time displayed over the loading docks was, 17:20. He was going to be cutting it close, that was for damned sure. He didn't need to check to see which shuttle was heading to the academy. From his vantage point he could make out the distinguished red of several cadets as well as the obsidian black of a few instructors. McCoy fished his ID from his pockets and nimbly ran it through the scanner, then hurried to find a seat on the shuttle before it was too full.

As he searched for an empty seat, his peripheral vision registered the looks of confusion a few of the cadets were throwing his way. Their eyes flicking back and forth from the braid around his wrist to the red of his uniform. A few of them opted to play it safe and saluted, while the others decided that the color of his uniform was the deciding factor and only gave slight nods of recognition. As a certified M.D., Starfleet thought it appropriate to grant him a rank before his official graduation. Officially he was a Lieutenant, unofficially he was about to let loose the contents of his gastrointestinal system at the prospect of being carted in a tin can being held up in the air by what people told him was "science," but McCoy was certain was demon magic.

He opted for a seat next to an instructor. The instructors tended not notice McCoy's rank or at least they pretended not to notice it. To them McCoy was just a pair of large cadet reds, and that was fine with him. At least he wouldn't have to sit next to a fidgeting child who was wondering if she/he should have addressed him as sir, or worse, attempted to suck up to him. As far as clout went, he had about as much power as a hen in a dog fight. McCoy strapped himself in and shut his eyes. He began reciting his comforting mantra for when he had to use earthbound shuttles. _At least you're not in space, at least you're not in space_. Somewhere in the back of his mind, McCoy knew that one day this mantra wouldn't work because he would indeed be in space, but that was for the future. In the here and now it was all the comfort he had, so he latched on to it as tightly as he could.

The pilot stepped into the passenger area to do a sweep. Making sure everyone was strapped in. She didn't say a word of greeting or make any sort of comforting small talk. As she passed McCoy she did a quick double take at his harness and made a rough adjustment that caused the belt to tighten uncomfortably across his midsection. "Breathe out," she said belatedly as she continued on down the line of passengers. McCoy watched her move into the cockpit of the shuttle, he waited for something, anything that would give him warning of take off so he could brace himself. An announcement, engines engaging, switches flipping,anything, something; but there was nothing. The lurch of takeoff hit him like a boot pressed into his lower back. This sensation was immediately supplanted by a deep keening need to vomit into his shoes. He shut his eyes, willing himself to ignore the zooming landscape in the windows and the roiling in his stomach. He reached his hand up to touch the Starfleet insignia again. This time he counted backwards from one hundred as he traced the outline of the emblem with his fingertips.

Undoubtedly the shuttle landed smoothly and on time, but for Leonard McCoy it landed with a thud after it went into a harrowing tailspin. He didn't bother to show any sort of decorum as he debarked from the shuttle, pushing past cadets and instructors alike to free himself from the confining space. Free of the shuttle, McCoy drew in breath like he'd been held underwater for hours. Speaking of the time, he checked his Comm, he had 4m 21s, to get to Starfleet Hospital. He was riding a wave of luck so far with the shuttle and as he made his way on campus it seemed to be continuing. It was late in the day, so the heaviest flow of students had already subsided, the campus was virtually deserted, making it easier to navigate. Unfortunately this also meant that the academy provided scooters were probably all roosting at the dorms.

McCoy started walking briskly. He scanned each area he passed for a scooter, but all of the designated areas he came across were barren. He kept trudging upwards. _God forbid they could have gotten rid of these blasted hills when they built this place._ Something shiny glinted in the corner of his eye and he turned his head just in time to see someone pulling into one of the designated holding areas for the scooters. . McCoy caught a flash of slender brown legs as they disappeared into the building. He thanked his luck and rushed over to hop on. "Name and designation." The machine asked.

"McCoy, Leonard H., M.D., PH.D., Lieutenant." McCoy felt like a giant ass spouting off his titles and ranks, but it was necessary to get the damned thing to operate. After a few seconds of processing, the scooter kicked on. It hovered a few inches off the ground, "Destination?" it asked.

"Starfleet Hospital. Quickly." McCoy added.

The scooter began to go at top speed, taking the turns and twists through the plaza with ease. It came to the entrance of the hospital in one of its designated areas then lowered to a complete stop. McCoy was already off and bolting for the door before it touched the ground. He had 2m 13s. No way he was going to have enough time to change into his blues, he was pushing the limit as it was. He hit the turbo lift at a skid and twisted the handle for… _Damn. I still can't remember what the hell I'm supposed to be doing today._ He made an educated guess and turned the handle to take him to the fourth floor. He was still holding on to hope that he'd be doing something mindless and not surgery. The lift opened and McCoy was greeted with the welcomed sight of blue uniforms crowding around the reception area.

He stood at the back of the group and tried to make himself seem as if he weren't a bright red drop of blood in a sea blue, but it was no good. The shark caught his scent almost instantly.

"Lieutenant McCoy, front and center." When Theo said the word, lieutenant, it came out as a curse.

The alarm on McCoy's Comm went off just at that moment, indicating the time his rounds were officially to begin. It was synchronized to Starfleet time like all of the other electronics used by cadets. McCoy felt a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth where a smile was beginning to form, but he quickly suppressed it.

"Made it in just under the wire Lieutenant… _Sir._" The slight hesitation at the word sir was deliberate. McCoy, stood with his back straight. He knew better than to rise to the bait. Sick as he was, he was still aware of the strange dynamic that existed here.

Ensign Theodore Brahms was the Chief Resident for Starfleet Academy Hospital. A fact he was never remiss in divulging to strangers and acquaintances alike. He finished his undergrad work with remarkable speed, something he would also freely divulge without prompt; and as another notch on his belt of achievement was named the youngest Chief Resident in the history of the hospital.

Leonard recalled his first meeting with the young man at a soiree thrown for the medical students. He seemed genuinely enthused about medicine, and for some reason, meeting McCoy. Apparently he'd done a disconcerting amount of research on him. It wasn't until their first day at the hospital, dressed in their full uniforms, did he show his true colors. He found out quickly that Theo Brahms, was a man about rising through the ranks; and the sudden realization that Leo was a cadet with Lieutenant rank was almost too much for him to bear.

He seemed oblivious to the fact that McCoy had about 10 years on him, so he was no upstart whiz kid that was going to shoot through the ranks like a rocket. He was a tried and tested physician and surgeon, who's hands had earned him every bit of praise he accumulated in life, stitch by stitch.

Their relationship was complex. On the one hand Leonard was a cadet so he was subject to the authority of his instructors and higher ranking officers. On the other he was a Lieutenant, which meant he outranked this jackass.

"Lieutenant… _Sir_, you're out of uniform." Theo said.

"Yes I am." Leo said simply.

Theo obviously noticed the deliberate omission of "sir" in Leonard's response. He knew he couldn't make him say it. McCoy noticed how it ruffled him, and made an internal note to continue to exercise _this_ privilege at least.

Theo quickly regained composure. Never one to be outmaneuvered, he already had his counterstrike locked and loaded. "_Sir_, I'm going to allow you 15m time to change into your proper medical uniform, I'm also issuing you 2 demerits for being out of uniform. Which will bring your total for the quarter to…" Theo clicked through some screens on his PADD, "Oh, seems like that will bring you to 6 for the quarter." He said with a poorly concealed grin.

Leo's mild satisfaction of a moment ago evaporated. 6 demerits. 6 demerits meant only one thing. As the realization swept through McCoy's inner being he caught the smarmy self satisfied look in Theo's eyes, and wished with all of his might that he was more of an irrational person.

He kept his mouth shut. It was pointless in trying to plead his case. What was he going to say, 'Sorry I was late, I decided to get hammered last night because my life's gone to shit?'

Having thoroughly satisfied his ego, Brahms went back to the business of issuing out assignments for the day. Leo melted back into the crowd. He suddenly felt a friendly hand rap him across the shoulder. He half turned to see the sympathetic face of Dr. M'Benga.

"Ignore him Leo. He just wishes he could be you." He said comfortingly.

McCoy knew M'Benga was trying to be nice, but the part of himself that was filled with self pity replied, "I don't see why. Being me is no picnic kid, I can tell you that."

M'Benga gave him a warm smile. "Something got you bothered there doctor?" He asked.

The question prompted a stream of images to come flashing up in Leo's mind. _Where to freaking start?_ He thought to himself. He merely shook his head and gave M'Benga a congenial pat across the back. "I'm fine Jabilo, nothing a slug of bourbon and a few hours of sleep couldn't cure." He joked.

M'Benga flashed him a toothy grin. He was about to say something else when the light on his PADD flashed indicating it had received it's assignment for the day. M'Benga clicked the icon to see what he'd gotten. Leo watched as he tilted his head back and let out a hiss of frustration.

"Pediatrics, again." M'Benga said. A bright smile spread across his face suddenly, "This is your fault Leonard. I could get a lot further in my career if I hadn't decided to befriend you."

McCoy arched his trademark eyebrow, "Can't say I blame them. You obviously have poor judgment which will result in the deaths of countless patients."

This made M'Benga laugh, which alleviated the disappointment he was feeling just a second ago. Leo realized that he hadn't yet collected his PADD. No doubt Theo had distributed some less than stellar assignment for him. He reached behind the reception desk to pull out the last remaining PADD. The screen readout had his name written on it and the light was already on, indicating it had received it's orders.

He pressed the icon to see what would pop up. In big bold letters he read the words: Morgue. Leo's eyes flashed upwards looking for the little creep who had given him this shit assignment, but he was gone. No doubt in his lair rubbing his hands together and cackling at the perfect execution of his diabolical plan. Leonard was no braggadocios ass hat like Theo, but he was no slouch as an M.D. either; and autopsies and organ cataloging was a waste of his skills.

The drums began to beat behind his eyes at the frustration and exertion of these social interactions and Leo suddenly remembered he wasn't even fit to operate a vending machine, let alone on people. In his petty one sided quest for victory against McCoy, Theo had accidentally granted him a boon. The morgue was the last place Leo wanted to be on any given day of the week, but today was a special circumstance and seemed to be the best solution for a bad situation. He told M'Benga he would talk to him later some time then headed for the locker rooms.

Leo dialed in the combination of his locker and was relieved to see his medical kit sitting on the shelf waiting for him. He went straight for the hypo. He selected a special cocktail he created some years back to alleviate the pain of a hangover, but still keep him functioning through the day. _Necessity is the mother of invention_. His hands deftly handled the dials and soon his head was flooded with soothing drugs and energizing endorphins.

Dressed in his blues with his pain subsiding, Leo was feeling more like himself. The morgue was on the sub-floor. Which was one floor beneath the locker rooms, so he decided to take the stairs. He came down the first flight and was immediately uncomfortable. A young woman was curled up on the bottom step, her shoulders shook from trying to suppress the sobs racking her body. Leonard could tell from her uniform that she was a nurse. She was also blocking his access to the door.

He decided the best course of action was to retreat. The last thing he needed today was someone else's problems piled on top of his own. He plotted a course back up the stairs, careful not to drop anything or make a noise that would alert her to his presence. He made it up, and stepped through the door as it slid open.

"BONES!"

Leo was so startled he fumbled his tricorder. He managed to catch it, but the PADD went sailing across the floor, landing at the feet of one James T. Kirk. The doofy smile he had was overshadowed by the massive contusion that was blossoming on his left cheek. Kirk had an ice pack on his nose, the kind that gets issued in the ER, which meant that he had been upstairs and come down before receiving any care.

Flustered from being startled, McCoy snapped, "Goddammit James, what the hell happened to your face?"

Kirk gave him a telling look that McCoy interpreted instantly. "Finnigan." They said simultaneously.

Leo bent over and picked up his PADD. He made a mental note that Kirk's fists were surprisingly injury free.

"What the hell are you doing down here kid. You need to get that nose looked at pronto." Leo chided.

"That's what I came down here for Bones. So, what are you waiting for then?" Kirk asked.

McCoy looked puzzled for a minute, then it clicked.

"Are you telling me, that you left the emergency room, bypassed a hospital full of qualified nurses and doctors, to specifically find me?"

"Every time, Bones." Kirk said with a big grin. The strain of which caused him to wince in pain.

Exasperated, McCoy stepped around Kirk and made his way to the turbo lift. He wasn't surprised to hear swift footsteps keeping pace next to him.

"What's got your panties in a wad today, Bones?" Kirk asked.

Again the flashes of images ran through his brain. "Nothing, it's just…" He stopped himself. He wasn't ready to get into it. Least of all with James Kirk, Mr. Happy-go-lucky with an eye for thrills. They made it to the turbo lift; McCoy twisted the handle for the sub-floor. The ride was short and as he stepped off he turned quickly around to throw up a hand. His instinct was correct, because Kirk was in fact about to step off the lift with him.

"Look James, I can't play. I'm working the morgue today which means you'll have to get someone else to patch you up."

Kirk tilted his head as if he were contemplating this. If he were, it took the whole of three seconds for him to make his assessment. "Nah, and call me Jim, for the hundredth time."

_Nah? Nah? _"Nah?" Leo repeated out loud this time.

Kirk chuckled and brushed past McCoy into the hallway. The sub-floor was always freezing cold because this is where the dead bodies were kept. Leo was prepared, he'd put on his long sleeved blues instead of the short sleeves he preferred. Kirk, dressed for the slightly warmer weather above level, was hit by the sudden drop in temperature. He hugged his body trying as best he could to hold the ice pack in place; which seemed a little redundant at the moment.

Leonard began mumbling like he always did when he became frustrated with patients. He'd brought this on himself those few months ago. He knew it. All he had to do was mind his own damn business. Wait for the kid to get his physical. They would have patched his face up then. But no, he had to go and abide by his goddamn Hippocratic oath and personal principles as a physician.

It was a landmark year for recruiting at Starfleet Academy, so when they landed in San Fransisco and made it to intake, the lines were enormous. It was going to take forever for them to get to the med unit; and since Kirk didn't appear to be in any immediate danger or noticeable discomfort to the staffers, they were content to let him wait his turn. And the kid didn't protest in the slightest. McCoy could have just let it end there, but the sight of anyone in need of medical attention made his gums itch and his blood burn if that attention wasn't given. He hooked the lad, by the arm and dragged across the venue until he found someone dressed in blue.

"Are you people blind or just stupid? You have a recruit in need of medical intervention." He demanded of the cadet.

The young man didn't look up from his PADD, "All cadets have been assessed and logged with non-emergency health statuses. If you have something you'd like a doctor to examine, he will do so when you've reached the physical portion of intake." He rattled off mechanically. He started to walk away, but at this Leo grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and swung him around till he was eye to eye with Kirk.

"Do you see this? I'm pretty sure he didn't come out of his mother looking like that. So I suggest you get your ass in gear and get this man to a med unit asap, before _your_ non-emergency health status gets revoked." Leo growled.

Kirk who had been silent this whole time gave Leo a quizzical look, like he had just noticed his dog was playing chess. The cadet, frightened out of his mind at this point, stuttered; "S-Ss-Sorry s-s-sir, he's already been logged as n-n-nnon-emergency, all of the medical staff are busy with other cadets."

"Then interrupt them!" McCoy half shouted. "I'm sure none of them have a possible concussion, or a burgeoning subdermal hematoma with pronounced swelling beneath the eyes."

The cadet wriggled in McCoy's grip, twisting about trying to slip loose. Failing, he said "I-I-I can't! I don't have the authority to interrupt a doctor or a nurse for that matter. I'm not even supposed to leave this area or I will get in serious trouble." He cried.

Leo pulled the kid in tight, "Where's the med unit?" He said in a low menacing voice. The cadet pointed in a direction across a sea of bodies. He could just make out the doors that led outward to an open area that had been re-purposed to serve as a med unit.

Leo turned his attention back to the cadet, "Thank you. And for future reference, this is what sick people look like," he swung Kirk around to look at him. The young man waved congenially and brought out his best 'this is an awkward situation smile.' Leo continued, "…In case you were curious when you get out into the field." He stormed off Kirk in tow.

"You're bossy Bones." Kirk joked.

Leo ignored him, primarily because he didn't get the bossy bones thing. When they made it to the med unit, Leo looked around for someone to ask for help. The cadet had been right, the place was jam packed and not a hand could be spared it seemed. McCoy thought it might go better if he used a more polite method with what were soon to be his medical colleagues, but to no avail. They brushed past him and ignored him in a synchronized dance of ego and buzzing industriousness. He was just a lowly recruit after all, not even a full cadet yet. So Leo did the only logical thing he could think of.

He waited until he noticed one of the recruits walking towards a dampened off area. He followed and walked into the makeshift exam room of one of the doctors. He was a man of some years and was startled by the sudden appearance of Leo and Kirk after his patient had stepped through.

Remembering his manners, Leo introduced himself, "Hello, I'm Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, sir. Sorry to intrude, but my friend is in need of some medical attention and since no one else seems to care, I've taken it upon myself to alienate the entire staff here before I'm even fully processed in order see to it that he gets fixed up."

The doctor glanced between Leonard, Kirk, and the hapless recruit for a minute. Then let out peals of laughter. "Hot damn," he said, "And I thought this was going to be a tedious day."

Leonard was relieved at this. For the moment it seemed he wasn't going to be escorted back to Iowa and forbidden to come within a hundred yards of Starfleet property. The older gentleman stood up, an action that seemed to cause him some discomfort, and extended a hand.

"Dr. Chapel, acting Chief of Surgery, and slave labor for the day."

Leo's eyebrow quirked. "Dr. Christian Chapel? The man who performed neural surgery on the Symbiotes from Kolsus XII?"

Kirk looked confused and Chapel began to cough heavily. "Well," cough, cough, "I guess that's proof enough you're not some lunatic trying to abscond with some medical supplies."

The coughing interrupted his conversation. Deep and wracking it took him a minute to regain his speech. "I am indeed the same Dr. Chapel. Though no one has mentioned that particular achievement in a very, very, long time."

McCoy's eyebrows raised up almost to his hairline, "Sir, I'm just an old country doctor, but never let it be said that I don't recognize a medical legend when I meet one."

The praise made Dr. Chapel blush to a degree. Clearing his throat he said "Well Dr. McCoy was it? Seeing as how you've barged in here and given my ego a good stroking it seems I have no choice but to see about your little friend."

Leo's shoulders slackened. He wasn't about to end his career before it even started it seemed.

"Thank you sir, I really—…" there was strong pull at his elbow.

Leo swiveled to see Kirk he had an inscrutable look on his face.

"I want you to do it Bones." He said.

Leo scoffed, "I'm not sworn in yet kid, and why do you keep ending your sentences in bones? Is that an Iowa thing?"

Kirk smirked, "You're Bones, and I don't want him to treat me. I want you to do it."

Leo was only mildly influenced by the flask he had been nursing on the shuttle, so a routine patch up and physical wouldn't be too taxing on his mental faculties. All the same, he'd rather not indulge the whims of children.

"Don't be an infant. Dr. Chapel is completely over qualified to tend to your needs, and I have my own intake to see to," Leo scolded.

He caught the almost imperceptible setting of Kirk's jaw, the flexing of his fingers, the downcast eyes. There are two things that Leo can point to specifically that lead to him becoming a doctor. One of them was his ability to judge body language with acute accuracy. And this young man was definitely upset. Leo made the decision to just leave without continuing to engage in any further conversation.

He turned to address Dr. Chapel one last time, "Sir, thank you for your help. I hope that I'll get the chance to pick your brain some time about that Symbiote surgery and your clinical studies with the Saurian virus."

Dr. Chapel acknowledged him with an outstretched hand. McCoy shook it firmly and exited. He was only a few steps out of the dampened off area when he realized he had a shadow. It was Kirk.

"What the hell man! I just moved heaven and earth to get you seen."

Kirk shrugged his shoulders, "When I said I wanted you to do it Bones, I meant I'll only sit down for you."

"Get your farm boy ass back into that room, before I knock you out and drag you back in there." McCoy tried to put iron in his voice, but the puppy dog furrow in Kirk's brow mixed with the inhuman blue of his eyes softened him.

"No." Jim said resolutely, and McCoy could read the body signatures that told him he meant it too.

Leo should have just walked away. It wasn't his face after all. He was no show pony, but his biological functions were normal and untempered, why the hell should he care if this brash young man wanted to walk around looking like he was turning into a cabbage? But that damned needling feeling. The one that called him to heal the sick and injured wouldn't go away.

"Goddammit." He hissed. "Come on."

And that was that. He was unable to shake Kirk from that day on. Without fail he'd pop up at the hospital once or twice a week with or without an ailment to report, and Leo sort of slid into a comfortable groove with the kid after that. He saw Kirk take a turn into the autopsy room. By the time he'd followed suit Kirk was already sitting on the examination slab, feet swaying like a child at play.

Leo dropped his stuff on a tray and leaned up against the wall, arms folded in defiance.

"Ah come on Bones, you know you're just going to do it anyway. Why go through this song and dance?" Kirk asked.

Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. Somehow despite the cocktail he'd injected earlier, he was beginning to get a headache. _Wonder what the source of _that _could be?_

Exasperated Leo walked over and snatched the ice pack off of Kirk's face. This elicited a howl of pain.

"Son of a bitch Bones," Kirk crowed.

"Quit being a baby. You wanted me to examine you. I'm examining you." McCoy snipped.

Leo whipped out his tricorder to do some scans. He waved it across Kirk's entire body to see if there were any non-visible injuries he hadn't picked up on.

"No concussion, your cheekbone is bruised but not broken, but I can't say the same for that nose." Bones hadn't needed the tricorder to tell him that. Kirk's face looked like a poorly drawn caricature of another person when he pulled the ice pack off.

McCoy further checked his readings, "You also haven't eaten today James. How many times am I going to have to remind you? You're too skinny as…" McCoy broke off his speech when he saw the look on Kirk's face. His eyes were cold and full of steel.

"What…" He began.

"I didn't know Starfleet inacted a new policy." Kirk broke in.

"New policy? What are you talking about James? What new policy?"

"Oh you know, the one where they let doctor's come into work drunk." Kirk said.

Leo was thrown off balance. He had taken his cocktail and had managed to make himself look presentable, but no one had gotten close enough to smell him that day. The alcohol in his skin and breath would be difficult to detect at arms length, but with him having come into Kirk's personal space to issue the exam it was impossible to miss. Even with a busted nose.

Leo backed off and turned around. "The only thing I can do for you down here is give a hypo for the pain. There are no dermal regenerators or cortical reconstructors, or even some old fashioned hand tools to set that nose back into place, so you'll have to go back up to the main floor to get some more assistance." McCoy said, changing the subject.

"No, Bones." Kirk said stonily. "What the hell! You're getting drunk in the middle of the week now?"

"Oh come off it James. How many times have you gone to class hungover? So you can save me the hypocrisy." McCoy shot back.

"Damn it Bones, I'm a cadet, not a doctor! My hangover doesn't cost anyone their life!"

Leo was filling up with rage. He didn't need this shit right now. Least of all from this freaking kid who didn't know shit about his problems.

"Bones, I'm your friend. You can talk to me. What's going on?"

Friend? Acquaintance. An annoying, pushy, constant, loud, if endearing acquaintance; but an acquaintance none the less. McCoy heard Kirk slide of the slab. A gentle hand rested on his back.

"Talk to me Bones." He said.

Leo turned around and stared him squarely in the eye. The loose posture the softened face. The wide eyes, Kirk's body was a message of openness. _Maybe…_ Leo thought. The picture show started up in his head again and he wished more than anything that he had a fifth of some finely crafted Tennessee whiskey right at this moment.

"You're counting again Bones." Kirk said. His brow was furrowed with worry.

Leo hadn't even noticed, but he was certain it was true. He felt the whirring in his head that usually precipitated the counting. This time he was doing it on his fingers; touching each digit to his thumb in rapid succession. He shook out his hands to negate the impulse, then picked up his PADD.

"I have work to do Kirk. You need to leave."

Never one to miss on subtleties, Kirk replied, "So it's Kirk now is it? Not even James."

Leo didn't bother to reply. He started checking the charts to see which cadaver he had to work on first.

"Ignoring me doesn't get rid of me. You at least ought to know that by now, Bones." Kirk hopped decidedly back on to the examination slab. Purposely interjected his person into Leo's workspace. Leo kept moving with his prep work. Putting on his overcoat and pulling out his tools.

"Yesterday was the anniversary of my father's death." His tone was absent, detached.

Leo was aware of Kirk's fixed gaze, but he kept his body moving. Stayed in motion.

"Bones…" Kirk started, but Leo threw up a hand.

"Don't. I was just…wallowing in a little self pity. I went a little overboard. That's all."

Kirk sat silent. Leo could almost hear his mind whirring, assessing things with that genius level brain of his. He whipped out his PADD and synchronized it with the lab computer. The autopsy schedule popped up. McCoy skimmed through the list to see if any familiar names were on it. There weren't any. Then he went back up to the top. The first name was that of a 13 year old girl listed with a rare blood disease complicated by cancerous tumors. The headache that was pitched at a low thrum suddenly got louder in his temples. He felt uncomfortable. What he wanted now was the solitude, that this assignment had promised.

"I got work to do Kirk, I need my slab" but Kirk didn't move. He kept a fixed eye on Leo.

"Bones, you have to talk to me. To someone. I know…" He started, a lump seemed to catch in his throat. There was something going on behind those iridescent blue eyes.

McCoy stepped over and stood in between Kirk's legs. He cupped his face in both hands. There was a small registration of resistance with mingled surprise, but they melted away quickly. Leo matched his gaze. There was defiance and kindness and something else Leo couldn't quite put his finger on.

Then he laid both his thumbs on either side of Kirk's busted nose and with a jerking motion snapped the bone back in place. The ensuing scream could have woken the dead bodies huddled in their slots.

"Mother fu—," and he was out. Loss of consciousness from the pain Leo figured.

Leo hit the comm board at the computer station. "This is Dr. McCoy on the sub-floor in exam room beta. I have a patient that wandered down here and passed out on the exam table. Have some orderlies come down and take him up to emergency care." The voice on the other end acknowledged, then cut out.

_You can't win 'em all kid._


	2. Chapter 2: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

[AN: This is the only time you will ever see an author's note placed before the text on this fic. I hate writing them and I especially hate influencing your experience of the story with my own opinion, so in the future if you are looking for an author's note, and I've written one, it will be at the bottom of the page. I just thought that now would be a good time to talk a brief moment about this story I'm writing. You should know firstly that I'm writing it for a specific person's entertainment value so any positive criticism it garners is strictly by accident and is greatly appreciated. Secondly I don't want anyone to feel cheated or lied to by the description of the story. It is in fact a McKirk slash fic, but it is also a story about McCoy and his life and experiences, so depending on where the story is going, you might not get that satisfying McKirk feeling you are jonesing for in every chapter. Thirdly, in this specific chapter, one of the characters has an accent. It is supposed to be a British cockney accent, and I tried to convey that through the use of phonetic spelling. I just didn't want anyone to be confused by some of the words that are missing letters or look off in some form or another. Fourthly, my writing is sporadic most of the time and slow on it's best days, so while the story will in fact be updated, it won't be on a set schedule and very probably will take longer than you want and for that I'm sorry. It's just my style. Finally, leave comments, constructive criticism, praises, questions, I even accept flames (the site doesn't condone them, but I'm not the site) because I am not an overly sensitive two year old. Be warned, however, that I will respond in kind if I feel inclined to step down to that level. I will always answer questions if it is possible to give an answer that doesn't give away spoilers. With that said happy reading]

In an old earth religion there were seven deadly sins. McCoy had plenty of experience with them all. His favorites by choice were lust and gluttony, two sides of the same coin some would say, but one he liked to flip. Today was different however.

As he marched across campus seeking out one James Kirk, McCoy was filled with unsubdued wrath.

—

Leo should have been asleep after a twelve hour shift at the hospital.

Twelve hours.

That was twelve hours of digging into what once were people, children, mothers, sons…fathers… He rubbed his face vigorously. All those dead bodies. All that wasted life. He needed a drink. But it was six o'clock in the morning and he had a day ahead of him.

He was expecting a call, and if his calculations were correct it was going to come near the seven o'clock hour. Leo let his finger pads dance in the creases of the solid walnut arm of the rocking chair he was sitting in. This had been his great grandfather's chair, and would have been his grandfather's had the two not had a falling out that persisted until the reading of the former's will. The relic was bequeathed to the man's grandson, Leo's father, bypassing his own son and putting the final nail in the coffin of that relationship. Then it passed to him when _his_ father died.

He remembered watching his father in the yard, with an old rag and a bottle of wood oil. The skilled hands working in diligent circles. Leo remembered asking him why he didn't put it in one of those restoration machines or why he didn't send it off somewhere to be refinished.

"Because son, if I did that they'd clean it, strip it down a layer, and apply a nice glossy coat. It would look brand new."

"Yeah. Isn't that the point?" Leo asked.

At this his father paused in his work. "Your great grandfather made this rocking chair for your great grandmother as a surprise when they found out she was pregnant. He cut down the tree, carved the wood, shaped the legs, even put the little flower design on the head rest. Now after he did all of that work, he found out that not only was it lopsided; but he then found out that your great grandmother suffered from motion sickness."

Leo remembered the big smile that crinkled his father's eyes when he got to that part.

It sent a little twinge of pain through his heart.

He remembered asking his father why his great grandfather didn't just throw it away when it didn't work right and his wife couldn't use it.

"When you put that much work into something, you don't just throw it out," his father had replied.

A knock at the door broke his reverie. "Enter," he said. The knock came again.

_Shit_, he thought to himself. He'd forgotten where he was.

—

One of the perks of being a cadet over the age of 27 and a lieutenant was that Leo didn't have to live in the dorms. Apartment hunting on his cadet pay, limited savings, in San Francisco quickly turned into a lesson in futility. He'd almost resigned himself to live in the dorms, when a chance encounter at a diner produced an opportunity.

Within the first 10 minutes of talking to Leo, she was giving him all of these intimate details about her life. Perhaps it was her way of flirting or perhaps she just needed a kind ear to listen. During her monologue she mentioned having to travel across town an hour out of her way to check in on her great aunt. The old woman suffered from some ailments, but refused to seek medical attention for any. She nattered on about what an inconvenience it was to travel so often and how stubborn the old broad was.

Leo's interest was fading fast with each word that came out of her mouth. Until she said something that caught his ear.

"…and the old crone refuses to give up being the caretaker of that decrepit building of hers. Honestly who wants to live in one of those relics anyway?"

"Relics? What relics?" Leo asked, showing genuine interest for the first time.

The change was noticed by the woman who began twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes obsequiously.

"Well," she cooed, "She lives in this grungy walk-up in the historic district. I mean it doesn't even have a lift, can you imagine!"

Leo could. He was from the south where everything was always a generation or two behind the times and people liked it that way.

"There's nothing wrong with a little old fashioned," he proffered.

"I mean…well no, I guess not, sometimes. But she lives there all year, and the stubborn thing won't move out or let them convert the place into a museum like a reasonable person would. And to add on top of that she insists on keeping tenants there, but is so damn picky over the candidates that the historical society sends over, she never has full capacity; which means she has to clean and see to all the empty apartments herself."

There were few occasions in life where McCoy had used his position as a means to an end, but his mind went whirring at the sound of the words "empty apartments." So when he heard himself say, "I'm a doctor. Perhaps I can help," his insides filled with all the mucky slime of a slug.

The young woman's name was Deborah and she had a career as an accountant. Between the diner and the ride over, McCoy had learned every intimate detail about her life. She was thirty-one. Her family was originally from Canada, but moved to California after her father lost his job managing a ship yard. Not the kind that fly in space, the other kind. They didn't know it at the time, but he'd been cavorting with the regional manager's wife.

"We only found out after the poor woman came all the way down here and tried to attack mama with an antique gun. Thank goodness the thing had undergone safety refitting before sale, otherwise who knows what could have happened."

By the time they were walking up the stoop of the old place, McCoy knew about her sister flunking out of Starfleet and joining the Cult of Eden.

"She claims she found a higher truth and purpose, but I just think she needed an excuse for failing so miserably. I mean, she was no genius of any sort and hated exercise so it isn't like she could even go into the security field. I mean really what was she thinking joining up in the first place?"

A question McCoy asked himself often, all the way up until he signed the enlistment papers, and then even a little while after.

Deborah was a nonstop gab factory, and her flirting was atrocious. As she fumbled through her bag trying to find one of only two keys she owned, she kept pausing to throw a doe eyed glance Leo's way. He tried his best to be receptive, but on the inside he fluctuated between wanting to cringe and outright laughter. She finally found the key and with a little more difficulty managed to open the door.

"Honestly they could at least replace the front door with the automatic kind. It really is such a bother to have to find these damned keys all the time." She waddled off down the hall. McCoy surmised it was suppose to be a seductive hip sway, but it came off as a waddle.

"Nana? Nana? Where are you?" She called.

McCoy stood in the foyer looking around. This was definitely an old place. There was a display case showing various photos through the centuries, and a plaque with it's official dedication and preservation date upon it. As far as an antique went, this was certainly it. There was wood everywhere. Real wood. A rare sight in the big cities these days. McCoy could remember a lot of wood growing up, but that had been Georgia.

From the look of it the place had six apartments two on each floor of a three story building. Deborah went to the door on the left. She knocked three times and called out again. "Nana? Nana are you in there?" She began rifling through her giant bag again for the other key. Why she didn't keep them together McCoy had no clue. Thankfully this one was located a lot more quickly than the other. As she put it in the lock McCoy heard the creak of the stairs above him. He looked up just in time to see a toilet scrub brush come hurtling at his head.

He ducked out of the way, but a barrage of other cleaning products began to rain down from above.

"Who the bleeding 'ell are you and why are you in my buildin'? Residents only!" The old woman screeched. The rain of supplies seemed endless. The noise brought Deborah running out of the apartment where she saw Leo crouched and covering his head from the onslaught. His attempts at reasoning having fallen on deaf ears.

"Nana! Nana, stop! He's with me." She yelled.

The assault ceased, but when Leo looked up it seemed the old bat was still prepared to hurl the last of her armory directly at his head. _I don't think I thought this idea all the way through._

"Oi, what are you doing 'ere? Wasn't expecting you till Tuesday next." She said.

"I had to come in on a bit of business. So I thought I'd just come by and see you too." Gesturing to Leo she said, "Nana, this is Doctor Mc—Sorry what was it again?" She asked somewhat sheepishly.

"McCoy. But please call me Leo." Leo tried to beam a charming smile, but the look the old woman gave him, told him that he had not succeeded.

"I told you I don't need a bloomin' doctor. I'm perfeckly 'ealthy. Off with you now. The both aya."

Leo didn't know what to say, but Deborah, god bless her jumped right in. "Oh Nana, he's not here to see you, he's just here to, uhm, look at one of your apartments." She lied. Rather she thought she was being a clever liar, but that indeed was the reason McCoy had even agreed to this "house call."

"This isn't one of those tossin' museums. Go round the corner if you want to see perfeckly good space go to waste. It's not 'appening 'ere I tell you that." Deborah's Nana picked her way carefully down the steps. She had a little bit of a bend in her back, which made her gait awkward. She pushed through McCoy almost knocking him off balance, which meant she still retained a good bit of strength.

Nana walked into the first apartment on the lower level. It was reasonably clean, but like many homes of the elderly contained a great many knick knacks, mementos, and pictures. She put down her cleaning caddy and seemed to notice just now that it was missing a few items. She turned round and looked from McCoy to Deborah in an accusing way. "Well are you two jus' gonna sit there or will you be fetchin' me my work supplies."

Leo was dumbstruck. Was he just ordered to retrieve the very instruments of his demise that she had a moment ago been flinging at his head? Deborah seemed to not take notice of this, obviously use to the old woman's manner and kept right on going into the apartment. Leo could hear her fussing at her Nana about the stairs.

"You have one good day out of five and you spend it romping up and down those stairs cleaning those damned apartments."

"I gots a job to do and I mean to do it too."

The arguing was going back and forth as McCoy picked up the products in the hall. The next thing he knew Deborah had poked her head out in a huff. "Will you please come and talk some sense into this salty old thing?"

Leo wasn't sure how they'd gotten so comfortable with him so quickly, with one telling him to do housekeeping and the other involving him in her personal affairs, but he just shook it off. He had his own agenda after all. When he entered the apartment he saw Nana pulling out a stepping stool. She had a duster in her hand and a determined look in her eyes.

"Nana don't you dare!" Deborah wailed. "Do something." This was directed at Leo.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do. "Maybe if you could explain the nature of your aunt's condition to me?" He ventured.

"I'm standin' right 'ere if you got somethin' you want to know, pretty boy." _Pretty Boy?_

Leo knew bait when he heard it. From what he gleaned from Deborah's endless conversation and the few minutes he'd spent in the old lady's company, he knew asking her was going to yield anything from nothing to a smartassed response.

"There is one thing I'd like to know. How do you call yourself a caretaker when these floors look abominable?"

That got her attention for sure. She put the stepping stool down. "Excuse me." She said incredulously, eyes narrowed. _You're three steps away from putting your foot in it McCoy. _

"Yeah this old wood in here is in desperate need of a good oiling or waxing if you prefer. No wonder tenants don't want to stay here. Shoddy upkeep." _Two steps._

Nana turned a fierce shade of red. She threw her duster and stepping stool to the floor in a clatter. "How dare you! You try keeping up with this place with osteoporosis and arthritis. I'm nearly a hundred years old, but I'm still spry enough to give you a good boxing around the ears, Pretty Boy."

Leo noticed her diction improved markedly when she was livid. He let a big smile spread across his face. "So you're in your late nineties, have osteoporosis and arthritis, and judging by what your dear Debbie has said, you are prone to having more bad days of pain than good ones."

Deborah and Nana's faces were mirror images of astonishment. Leo basked in the glow of his own cleverness for a second. He hadn't really planned that whole exchange, but it worked out rather nicely.

"Why you sneaky little blighter. Debbie where'd you pull this one from?" Nana asked.

Beaming with pride Deborah stepped up and hooked an arm through Leo's. "He was sitting at a diner looking so lonely, I just had to talk to him and see if I could cheer him up."

"You should keep a 'old to him, he's a right sight better than those other blokes you have sniffin' round ya." Nana's accent slipped back into place seamlessly.

Leo realized with a small bit of horror that Nana, thought he and Deborah were dating. From the huge smile on her face, Deborah seemed pleased with the misunderstanding. He gently, but noticeably disentangled himself from her arms.

"Maybe we should try proper introductions again sans firearms," he said indicating the cleaning products.

"I've given you my name, what is yours ma'am?" Leo asked.

The old woman waved her hand in dismissal. "No sense in all that, names the same as 'ers," she said pointing at Deborah. "Damn nephew o'mine thought 'e'd flatter me by naming his daughter after me. Which would have been fine if every sod in the family 'adn't gone and got the same idea. Now the family is full of Debbies and Debras and Deborahs and one Diedra from my idiot late husband's side of the family, because they don't know their 'eads from their assholes."

Leo broke into peals of laughter.

"You call me Nana like this one 'ere does," she said gesturing at Deborah. "Now don't stand there grinnin' like an idiot. Come in and sit down the pair aya."

Leo made to sit down, but noticed Nana stoop over slowly to reclaim the stepping stool and duster. _Stubborn old mare. _Leo rushed over and took the items from her gently, but with enough force to show he meant business.

"Now you listen to me you salty old crone. Your condition is treatable to a certain degree, but since you refuse that, these words will have to suffice. If you want to make it to a hundred with any sort of autonomy you'd better start being more careful. That means no more climbing up step stools or hiking up these fool stairs every damn day. One bad dismount and we'll be scraping up the dust that use to be your bones off the floor. Now if that's what you want then feel free, add somersaults up and down Ashbury to the list, but if not I suggest you either sign over your commission as caretaker or get some damned tenants to keep up with those unoccupied levels."

"Either way, this," he said indicating the step ladder, "Is going in the dumpster."

Leo marched out amid a string of colorful protests. He saw the dumpster on the side of the apartments when they'd arrived at the house earlier and made straight for it. The thought briefly occurred to him that he had probably smartly screwed himself out of any chance at getting into one of these apartments, but as always when push came to shove, the doctor in him always triumphed over self interest.

He tipped the step ladder into the rubbish and made the decision that he was done with this farce. It had been a fools errand in the first place, and had about as much success as a gator in a beauty pageant. He wasn't even going to bother going back inside. The likelihood that he would ever see Deborah and Nana again were exceptionally slim in a city this size.

He made to wander up the street when he heard the frantic cries issuing from the building. Leo bounded up the stoop in a flash. He nearly collided with Deborah who was rushing out in a state panic.

"Nana's fainted! She-She-."She stammered, but Leo was already making for the apartment.

Sure enough the elderly woman was awkwardly lying flat in a chair, as if she had tried to sit down but hadn't quite made it before collapsing. He felt her pulse with his hands. It was erratic, beating at odd intervals. Her breathing was a bit shallow too and her color looked off. The glazed over look in her eyes was definitely disconcerting.

Deborah was in hysterics repeating "Oh, god. Oh god. Oh god." Over and over again. Leo raced into the kitchen. He had a small emergency medical kit that he kept in his pocket, but everything in it would only exacerbate this situation. He ripped open the refrigerator door. Nana appeared to be suffering from a classic case of hypoglycemia if he could trust his medical history knowledge. _How often does that occur in this day and age. _There was a simple and permanent cure for diabetes now. _But you'd only get that if you were diagnosed with it. To be diagnosed with it, she'd have to go to the doctor, and to go to the doctor she'd have to not be a stubborn thorny hided mule. _

McCoy ripped a bottle of juice out of the refrigerator along with a lime. He pulled out one of the kitchen knives and deftly sliced the lime in half. He ran back to Nana. Deborah was cradling her head, weeping uncontrollably. Leo didn't bother clearing her out of the way. He checked the half lidded eyes of Nana and confirmed that her breathing was still shallow. He squeezed the lime into her nostrils. The combination of the citrus sting and shock, caused her eyes to flutter open and her jaw to drop, which was just what he wanted. He instructed Deborah to pull her into the most upright position she could get her in. Then he twisted the cap off the juice and carefully tipped some in. He did this at ten second intervals, being sure to massage her throat to make sure the juice went down.

After a fashion, Nana's color began returning and her pulse became more regular.

"Oh thank the stars." Deborah said. She turned to Leo, eyes glistening with the moisture of unshed tears. "Thank you doctor. Oh, thank you so much. You saved her."

Leo looked into Nana's eyes. She was calm, if a little shaken. There was gratitude there and a ghost of a smile on her lips. Leo rolled his eyes and let out a large angry hiss. He flung the bottle of juice across the room as hard as he could.

"You fucking idiot!" He shouted. "You're a goddamned diabetic?! How in the blue hell have you never been treated?"

Deborah looked aghast. "Leonard I don't think this is the time to be chiding her. She's just been through—"

"SHUT. UP. DEBORAH." He shouted. Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting one monster headache. He crouched down, so he could be eye level with Nana. "Do you want to die?" he asked matter of factly. The old woman looked confused by the question. Insulted even. Leo flexed his jaw and put cold iron in his voice, "Do you. Want. To die?" Nana, shook her head feebly.

"Then act like it. I want you to take a look at your niece." Nana turned her attention away from Leo to regard her niece. Her eyes were red and glistening, though she hadn't shed a tear. Her whole demeanor was wracked with worry though. Nana reached out and grabbed Deborah's hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Do you see how much she cares about you. I can't sit here and give you a lecture about how being an ornery stubborn old coot is wrong; because that would be the pot calling the kettle black. But what I will say is this. Death is inevitable. One day, she's not going to be able to hold the tears back, because you'll be gone and there will be no getting you back. Until then, don't give sorrow a helping hand, don't break her heart."

The two women were silent. An occurrence that was a rarity for both, Leo was sure.

"Get her into bed. I'll be back in an hour or so." He commanded.

Leo took his sweet time getting back to Starfleet Academy Hospital that day. He had a full blown migraine and his nerves were so tweaked he spent at least ten minutes of his journey mentally listing all of the sedatives he knew in alphabetical order.

When he made it back to Nana and Deborah, it was near evening time. They were murmuring quietly to one another when he walked in.

"Okay, the good news is that you aren't going to have to add any more medication to your regiment." Leo said. "The bad news is that you'll have to have a series 3 injections over the same amount of weeks in order to be clear of your diabetic problem for good. Now I could prescribe some pills for you to take, but if I'm any judge of character, we both know you won't take them."

Nana's face twisted into a sideways pucker. "And where am I suppose' to go for these injections?"

Leo pulled up a chair beside her, he pulled out the hypo he had brought back with him.

"This is the first injection. These injections function to permanently alter your body's biochemistry, but the body is stubborn and likes to keep doing things the way it thinks is natural. Even if that means producing a whole lot of bad shit. So you'll need to take all three injections a week apart if you want the effects to be permanent."

"You didn' answer my question." Nana said.

"I don't have a personal comm at the moment, but my cadet comm link is listed in the academy directory. The public has free access to it. In a day or two you look up Leonard H. McCoy and you'll be able to find me easy. I'd give it to you now, but it's linked with our dorm rooms and I haven't got one at the moment." He said.

Leo pushed the trigger on the hypo as gently as he could manage. Nana winced from the needle prick, but took it. He changed the dials on the needle, this time choosing a mild sedative.

"I'm going to give you a sedative too. The first injection is going to make you nauseas and a little dizzy, this will help to ease the discomfort. Throwing up is encouraged in this case, so I can't give you anything for that I'm afraid."

Deborah walked over and placed a hand on Leo's shoulder. "Will you come here to her then? When she calls you?" She asked.

Leo, was too tired to shrug her off. Besides, he was sure she was trying to seek comfort from him as family members of patients often do, he was too tired to give that either.

"I can't make you that promise. My hours at the hospital will be crazy and erratic, especially since I'm a new recruit. I'm likely to get the shit end of the stick."

Deborah withdrew her hand. Her eyebrows knit together forming a not un-pretty expression. Leo hazarded to guess that she was more attractive when it seemed like some actual thought was running through her mind.

"That isn't going to work. On a good day she can travel maybe four or five blocks in a given circumference. And I certainly can't escort her back and forth for two weeks straight. It's difficult to get here as often as I do."

"He'll just 'ave to live 'ere for a little while then, won't he." Nana spoke up.

"What?" Leo and Deborah said in unison.

"HE'LL JUST 'AVE TO LIVE 'ERE FOR A LITTLE WHILE THEN, WON'T HE." She said louder.

Leo's brow raised in question. That was certainly what he'd been after when he agreed to this little trip, but he had abandoned after the days events; and he certainly wasn't looking to be anyone's doctor in residence.

"You can lower your brow pretty boy," Nana said with a smile. "You can't really expect an old woman like me to go gallivanting about in shuttles or street cars just to get to your bloody academy hospital. I'd prolly collapse afore I made it to the hub. Asides it's what you came 'ere for any ways itnit?"

Common sense said not to protest it, because this is what he wanted. But decency and pride said to protest. A lot.

"Now listen here—" he began.

"Oh enough of that." Deborah chimed in. "You can practice your soliloquies at the theater with the other actors. We've had quite enough of them for one day." She quipped.

"Now _you_ listen here Dr. Smartass, I know good people when I meet them. You and my Debbie are good people. I know that if I leaned on her a bit I could get her to come out here those two weeks you're trying to sucker me into that deathtrap for. It would be a burden for her and she'd be exhausted, but she'd do it. And like I know that, I know that you'll shut your hole and move in here like we say, because you're the type to give his own blood if it meant saving a person's life. Am I right?"

Leo didn't have an answer.

—

The knock was persistent. Leo crossed the room and opened the door.

"I 'eard you come in, so I thought I'd bring these up for you."

Nana handed him a basket of freshly ironed and folded uniforms and other assorted laundry items. Leo didn't even bother going to check his hamper in the bathroom. He knew it was empty and that another basket of clothes was likely due to arrive later in the day.

"Nana, I can do my own laundry." He said lamely.

She waved a dismissive hand in his face.

"Thank you." He said and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Nana made a face, then promptly pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped it away. "None o'that," she crowed, "I'd only break your heart."

Leo grinned as he watched her carefully pick her way down the stairs. After the first few weeks of living in the apartment, he'd given up on admonishing the old woman for using the stairs so often; and a few weeks after that, gave up on keeping her out of his apartment while he was away. There wasn't much in the way of cleaning for her to do, besides his laundry, but Leo would often times walk in and see food or desserts left for him in his fridge or on the counter.

He was hanging his uniforms up in the closet, when his academy issued comm began to chirp. He checked the time, it was earlier than he anticipated. When he flipped it open it wasn't a call. Just a message.

Meeting 0730

Hospital, Admistration Level C

Office 5204

He didn't know what to think. He'd been expecting something, but he was sure it would come from the Educational Services Department. Demerits were their deal after all. Leo had never gone on an Administration Level before. Barring one incident where he needed to go to level A, where they handle the paperwork for admitted patients. The feeling of apathetic annoyance he felt earlier, slowly dissipated into mild paranoia and burgeoning panic. Something was definitely not right.

—

Leo made sure that he was regulation from top to bottom before he left the house. Yet, before he went in, he stood off to the side of the enormous glass panel wall that led into the reception area of Level C. He smoothed the edges of his uniform once more and tucked an errant piece of hair back into his finely groomed coif. He ran a hand across his chin as if a prospector's beard would suddenly erupt from his follicles at any moment. He chose to wear his science blues. A nurse had once commented while fleeing a room that he seemed less "scary" when he wore them. Calm and approachable was the air he was trying to give off; punctual as well. He'd arrived at the office twenty minutes ahead of schedule.

The reception area of level C was spacious. The receptionist was sitting behind a large semicircular desk, backed by a wall with a huge, crystalline, Starfleet science division insignia. Leo could hear his boots echoing in the silence as he crossed the marble floor and imagined that his heart was keeping tempo with his footfalls. He flexed his fingers. He had to resist the urge to count his steps, or the number of tiles on the floor, or the hairs in the receptionists bouffant. _Gotta keep the crazy under wraps for a little while Leo._

"I have an appointment this morning at 0730." Leo said.

The receptionist looked up, all smiles.

"Good morning!" She sang. "With whom do you have this appointment?" She asked.

"I have no idea. I received a message this morning instructing me to come to room 5204."

Her eyes sparkled with the light of recognition. Her fingers moved so quickly, that Leo barely registered the motion before a door, made to blend in with the wall, hissed open.

"At the end of the hall on your left." She said cheerily.

Leo walked into the bright white corridor and was half blinded by the brilliance of the lighting. _What is it with hospitals and white?_ As he approached the door he was halfway in motion to buzz for entry when the door slid back. Sitting behind a giant replica of an old mahogany desk was…

"Dr. Chapel?"

"Sit down," he grumbled.

Leo sat. He hadn't seen Chapel since that day he barged into his cadet examination room. He'd grown a thick gray beard since then. Chapel opened up a desk drawer and whipped out a mini PADD. He chucked it across the desk. Leo caught it and saw a picture of himself along with his personal information.

"Thumb through a few screens." Chapel ordered.

Leo did. He went from the the first page to the next which had his demerits numbered with the listed infractions beneath.

"Sir…"Leo began to explain.

"Keep scrolling." Chapel ordered.

He kept scrolling and what he saw stopped him cold. It was page after page of patient surveys and written complaints, from nurses, to patients, to goddamn janitors. Leo could feel the deep crease in his brow form.

"Sir, I don't understand. What is this?"

"This, boy, is an intervention.

Confusion.

"I remember you, McCoy. From the recruitment circus. Not many of these young upstarts leave an impression on me, but you and that lad of yours certainly did." Chapel paused to cough.

"I remember thinking then, that you probably had more heart than sense. It seems I was right. Do you know how I came by this convenient little file?" He said nodding towards the mini PADD.

Leo shook his head in the negative.

"It was sitting on the desk of Yeoman Keiko Truedale, bundled with a standard form requesting disciplinary action. Do you know who that is?" He asked.

The lack of recognition on Leo's face spurred Chapel onward.

"Keiko, is the executive assistant to Admiral J.R. Jennings, Director of Educational Services."

At that Leo's eyebrows rose to his hairline. Chapel continued, "Now J.R. is a fair man. He has a good humor outside of work, but here on the job, he's a no nonsense kind of fellow. And his job is to make sure Starfleet gets the best yield out of the crop of cadets he gets every year. You are a number to him. A number and stats. All being weighed, measured, and balanced against your potential for use within Starfleet. He makes the promotion list, the demotion list, the recycle list, sends red flags to the disciplinary board, and finally, and most importantly, he is the _first_ signature on _all _recommendations for expulsion."

"J.R. wouldn't be able to pick your face out of a lineup, but give him your file number and oh baby the things he could rattle off about you in a minute would blow your mind." Chapel whipped out a tissue and coughed into it. "I want you to look at the file and tell me what you see." He said levelly.

Leo flipped through a few screens, but his mind wasn't focused. Was this the prelude to him being expelled? If so it would definitely be the icing on the cake of his life. Expelled from somewhere he didn't really want to be in the first place. Classic McCoy fuck up.

"Maybe I should say, what don't you see in that little file there?" Chapel chimed in. Leo flipped through the screen again. Every glaring faux pas and cockup he had accrued in Starfleet was staring at him. It was like…

"None of my positive feedback, academic records, or past relative experience is listed in the personnel section."

"Bingo." Chapel said. "Someone, took a routine disciplinary action that could have been sent to any number of low ranking pilot fish to deal with, to the department head in charge of expulsions, with a laundry list of failures attached to it."

_Someone was trying to get me thrown out._

"I read that whole thing from front to back. To be quite honest with you McCoy, if Jennings had seen that he could have bypassed the every disciplinary procedure and code we have and booted you out of here so fast, you'd still be trying to find your ass when you hit the ground. Cause, what's one more cadet really? Only 40% of incoming make it to graduation anyway. Maybe even less."

Leo sat in silence.

_Someone was trying to get me thrown out._

"You gotta shape up boy. Shape the hell up. Not only are you dropping the ball for the academy, but someone is actively seeking to destroy you. You don't know it, but I've been keeping tabs on you. _I've_ read your _whole_ file. I can't for the life of me figure out why a brilliant doctor like yourself would: A. give up his practice; and B. Join Starfleet without requesting a commission. You could have bypassed this whole cadet bs and been invited in as an attending physician with full colors."

Leo shrugged noncommittally. He had his reasons for doing things this way, but he certainly wasn't going to lay them out for Chapel. _Someone was trying to get me thrown out._

"I've even asked around about you. I either get something ranging from: Oh, he is a genius and miracle worker; to, he's an asshole who needs to fall on a syringe. Which doesn't give me a clear picture of you at all." Chapel's body was wracked by a series of ragged coughs in succession. "Excuse me. As I was saying. One minute, I hear how brilliantly you excised a tumor and the next you're neglecting patients to give your buddy some first aid patch up and a medical high."

"Wait what?"Leo interjected finally.

"There is talk of you treating a young man here at the hospital. He turns up, bloodied and bruised. Refuses to let anyone else treat him save you. I assume this is the same young man from the orientation debacle. In any case, whether it is or isn't, there are murmurings that he comes specifically to you because you give him grade A drugs. Now I don't believe a spit of it, but I have common sense."

Leo felt a blush of heat rise under his collar. He was sitting here getting a dressing down for being a jackass basically and just to spice up the mix, the one thing he does out of the kindness of his heart, James fucking Kirk, nuisance extraordinaire, was being thrown back in his face.

Chapel coughed a bit, then cleared his throat. "When it comes to success, I have a saying. Destroy distractions, destroy your weaknesses, and destroy your enemies. You have all three. Don't let your friend drag you down. Don't drag yourself down with that surly attitude of yours; and find the person who is out to get you. Quickly."

Chapel rose from his chair and extended a hand to Leo. Leo grasped it firmly and shook.

"Thank you sir, for the uh, intervention and for keeping my buns out of the fire." Leo said, trying to sound breezy. He felt like there was lead in his stomach and fire behind his ears.

"You're welcome McCoy. The one thing I can't stand is wasted potential. Isn't that right Christine?"

"Of course, father." A voice said from behind Leonard.

He hadn't even heard the door hiss or anyone enter. He whipped around to behold a lovely young woman. She was wearing a nurse's uniform and had her hair done up in the style similar to the receptionists that had become popular recently. There were subtle purple color accents that almost looked silver in hers though.

"McCoy, this is my daughter, Christine. Christine this is Leonard McCoy, the one I've told you about."

Christine held her self very straight, which only enhanced her angular features.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Dr. McCoy. I've heard a bit about you from my father." She said gently. Her mouth held an imperceptible little smirk. Her eyes were inquisitive and stern, yet contained a hint of mirth.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too Ms. Chapel. I didn't know the good doctor had a daughter." Leo said.

Again that tiny barely perceptible smirk, "Oh no, you wouldn't know. I suspect you wouldn't know that he had a wife, or a home, or a cat named Waffles either."

Leo smiled. He liked this woman. She was smart, and he was a sucker for smart women. Lady Chapel locked eyes onto his mouth and quirked her head to the side. It wasn't a look of want though, more like she found his mouth, fascinating in a scientific way.

The soul rattling coughs of gentleman Chapel refocused Leo's attention. "Remember what I told you boy." Chapel said as he grabbed his coat. "Shape the hell up."

Leo half attempted a salute, but the doctor's back was turned. He placed a guiding hand on his daughter's back to lead her out of the room. Over her shoulder Christine threw another smirk, and mouthed "destroy, destroy destroy." At the same time her father said it out loud. "Destroy, destroy, destroy, young man." And they were gone.

—

Leonard was reeling. He didn't know what the hell was going on. The people at the hospital hated him, someone was out to get him, and there was of course his permanent state of being on the brink that he was having to deal with all at once. After he escaped from Level C, he went to the nearest coffee shop and dosed himself with two espresso shots and a muffin. Sleep wasn't going to happen anytime soon, so he might as well accept it and preempt the process.

Already there was a lot of movement on campus. The cadets on the operations track, i.e security, engineering, tactical, etc, were always awake and running around at the ass crack of dawn. The first lectures of the day would be starting soon. Leo had Thursdays off, so he had no where to be at the moment. He might go volunteer at the clinic later, or decide to jump in front of a bus. He'd just play it by ear. People were milling about in the cafe. Some trying to finish up last minute homework assignments; some trying and failing miserably to wake themselves up with the power of caffeine; while others were simply existing; which was the most infuriating thing by far.

Leo grabbed the remnants of his cup to leave. There was too much existence going on in there and what he wanted was a whole lot of nonexistence right now, because it seemed like it would be easier.

"And Kirk said 'I've never put a foot in there before, but I'm game if you are sir.'"

Leo pulled up short near a table of assorted cadets, who were laughing themselves to tears. He glared incredulously at them all. It was the name that stopped him in his tracks. One dough faced boy locked eyes with him first. Then the others as they broke away from their fits. The spinner of the tale decided to be the spokesperson.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

McCoy sat his half finished coffee cup down on their table, then got uncomfortably close to the boy's face. "Where is Kirk?" He demanded.

Any facade of bravery dissipated. "I don't know man. I saw him this morning during PT and that was it. Maybe check The Mess. He's sometimes in there.

Leo left. He didn't bother reclaiming his coffee.

—

The Mess was somewhere low to mid-level on the plateau. Leo never ate there. It was full of children and co-workers. Neither of whom he wanted to spend time eating lunch with, save M'Benga on occasion. When he finally found it and walked in, his preconceived notions were affirmed. There were people buzzing and flitting everywhere, making a general nuisance of themselves. Leo popped his knuckles and his jaw. This was definitely not the place for him to be. There was a rushing noise in his ears. Quite probably the sound of his anxiety being pulled backwards to join his neurosis in a tidal wave of a medium to large panic attack.

For now though, it was under control because he was on a mission. At first he kept to the rim. Walking about trying to see if he could catch a glimpse or an audio snippet of Kirk. Then he realized, that interjecting asshole would probably be in the center of the room/crowd. Because sitting quietly off to the side, aka being ignored is not his style. So Leo wended his way to the inner tables and lo and behold, lying prone on a table, feet crossed at the ankles, eating a solitary piece of toast, and surrounded by a contingent of smiling cadets was Kirk.

He wasn't talking, but he was definitely the focal point of amusement for everyone there, and was giving zero fucks about the space he was taking up or the attention that was being layered on him. His face was still a bit winged up from the scuffle he'd been in the day before, but Leo had to give kudos to the doctor who got him to sit that long under a regenerator. _Probably got most of it while he was still unconscious_. The thought of Kirk fainting from the pain made him happier than it should have as a person and a doctor.

Leo wavered on how best to approach this. Should he feign politeness and ask him to step away and talk? Or should he ream him out in front of his adoring fans and dethrone the king? He made himself walk forward, whatever he did when he got there was going to be the thing he had decided on. There was a half second right before he penetrated the bubble where he felt like he wanted to pull back. Then the next second his hands gripped Kirk's uniform by the shoulders as he wrenched him off the table knocking several items of food off in the process.

Since Leo was no shrinking violet, but not one for public displays, he chose the best of both worlds, which apparently meant dragging Kirk out by the scruff to speak to him in private.

"Whoah, Hey!" Kirk protested. "Bones? Bones what the hell man?"

Leo didn't answer he ushered Kirk out into the open and pulled him off to the side of the building. He turned him loose and ran his hands down the side of his own face.

"What's the matter Bones?" Kirk asked bewildered. A faint smile played around his mouth as he readjusted his uniform.

"What's the matter? What's the matter?! I'll tell you what the goddamn matter is Kirk. It's done that's what."

Kirk was still obviously confused. "Jim," he corrected, "And what's done, Bones?"

"Stop. Stop with the chummy epithets and trying to make us be friends okay. I don't have friends. And if I do, you can bet your ass you can't count yourself as one of them _Kirk." _Leo spat the name for emphasis.

The smile on Kirk's face disappeared. "Bon—"he began, but the warning look on Leo's face made him pull back, "Leo? Leo, what is this about? Is this about yesterday when I gave you grief about the alcoh—"

Leo put his forearm in Kirk's chest and pushed him against the wall of The Mess. "I don't need your shit Kirk. I have my own. So find a new private physician. I'm out."

Leo made to pull away, but Kirk being the faster of the two latched onto his arms and wouldn't let go. Leo could feel the strength in the grip and knew he wasn't simply going to pull away without getting embroiled in a full scale brawl. So he stood still, body and mind ready to pounce.

"I'm sorry." Kirk said, and that was it. There was a dejected look about him, that told Leo he meant it. Then he walked away. Leo just stared after him.


End file.
